


Little Black Feathers

by Athene



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Gen, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 13,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athene/pseuds/Athene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles or short stories involving Wingul. Most likely with Gaius. Each story will have its own warnings, so be sure to read the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> The below story, "Stranded," contains spoilers for events in and the endings of both Tales of Xillia 1 and 2.

Even without the schism that had encased Rieze Maxia, a broad expanse of water separated the country from Elympios. While cargo ships and luxury cruisers sailed directly from one country to the other, smaller ships could navigate the waters to the small dots of land that lay in between.  
  
The islands were far too small to support more than a few adventurous settlers, so they remained largely untouched in the many years that they were known about. Some had decent flora and fauna populations, while others sat almost completely barren, lacking in significant wildlife and decent protection from the elements.  
  
After the schism fell, Wingul found himself stranded on one of the latter islands.  
  
His first day on the small island was spent slumped behind the only boulder on the beach large enough to use for shelter from the blistering sun. It was a miserable existence, hiding underneath his cape and blearily wondering what he was going to do to escape his current situation. He had most certainly not avoided a bloody end at the hands of Maxwell’s group and a near-death experience with his booster to simply die of exposure in the middle of nowhere.  
  
He subsisted for the first two days on land crabs burned alive with his spirit artes. There was little other food, and he was forced to lick rocks for their salt content lest he lose what little water he had in him through perspiration. He groused about his pathetic state as he looked off to the endless ocean surrounding him; if he was going to survive, he _had_ to make his way to another island, his lack of significant swimming experience be damned.  
  
There wasn’t much to take stock of when he finally decided to brave the waters; he had nothing on him other than his clothes and sword, and even then he had to discard most of his layers to avoid becoming utterly waterlogged. He strapped his sword to his back, wrapped his hair in his dirty cape, and made the plunge into the water.  
  
…And he quickly pulled himself out of the water again when dark clouds roiled together in the distance with surprising speed—a drastic change in spirit clime.  
  
A tropical storm thundered around him that afternoon, and even as he huddled against his rock in a vain attempt to block off some of the wind and rain, he opened his mouth to accept the first source of fresh water he’d had in over two days. Once again, he faced a miserable evening, left cold and soaked after the storm subsided too late for him to dry off his garments in the sun.  
  
Morning brought with it the return of the sun’s heat and a welcome sight: floating debris illuminated by the rising sun. Once again he plunged into the water, this time swimming out to the largest piece of debris. Inspection of the floating tree told him that lightning had felled it recently, knocking it and its hard-cased fruit into the water.  
  
So there was in fact an island out there that he could reach within a night’s time, if he could figure out which way to go.  
  
His sword saw its first real use in a few days as he hacked into the hard fruit for whatever nourishment they could give him. The unripe meat was bitter, but the watery juice at its center was more than worth the effort taken to crack open the stubborn fruit. He spent the morning hours sitting on the floating tree, eating its fruit and contemplating which direction it had come from.  
  
The thought crossed his mind that he could remain with the tree and see where it went, but he quashed the idea before it truly settled in his head; he had no idea where the tree would take him, and the tree had not retained many of its fruit along its nighttime journey. As reluctant as he was to leave the fruit behind, he knew he could not realistically traverse the water and hold on to more than one of the fruit along the way.  
  
But Wingul was resourceful, and his will to survive was not going to fail him; the limiting factor had always been his body, currently slow to recover from his last battle with malnourishment plaguing him. He asked much from his sword by using it to shave through the tree’s body, and the blade took on a few scratches from the splintering trunk as he reaped one last gift from the tree: a relatively flat piece of wood that would bear his weight as he swam for the next island.  
  
Feeling somewhat hopeful for the first time since he had woken up on that barren island, Wingul slid into the water and swam into the unknown.  
  
* * *  
  
The bizarre sight of what appeared to be a gigantic fetus cradled by the moon was seen all over the world. While in the following weeks both the governments and the press would release details on the phenomenon, the initial sight was enough to scare people out of their normal routines. One such break in routine led to a ship’s captain steering his glass-bottomed tour boat horribly off-course.  
  
The tour boat returned to Marksburg seven hours late and with one more passenger than had been aboard when it had left port.  
  
* * *  
  
Gaius was ready to head back to Trigleph after returning from the Land of Canaan. Despite everything that had happened with Origin’s Trial, he still had his responsibilities waiting for him. Rowen was at his side as he headed for the train station, musing over their next steps when Rowen’s GHS rang.  
  
“My, what an unexpected call.”  
  
His eyes slid to watch Rowen as he stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the train station. “Something amiss?”  
  
Rowen turned on one heel to face the Marksburg Inn, not far from where they stood. “Apparently I was left a message at the inn. Beg pardon, Gaius, but may we make a quick stop to pick it up?” He offered the king an apologetic smile.  
  
It wasn’t altogether strange for Rowen to be the recipient of messages, given his role, but written messages were largely replaced by GHS texts and calls, depending on their importance. Rowen also tended to handle booking the inn as to spare Ludger’s wallet, so it wasn’t surprising for the inn to have his contact information.  
  
Gaius nodded his assent, turning to join him. “Very well.”  
  
* * *  
  
The message to Rowen contained a single line of seemingly incomprehensible characters strung together.  
  
Gaius took one look at the message and demanded to know where it had originated from.  
  
* * *  
  
Through the course of Ludger’s missions with Spirius, Gaius had seen his Chimeriad as they appeared in some fractured dimensions. The most poignant of the missions (to him) had been his first, when he had seen Wingul seated on his throne. Pale and stretched thin with regret and stress, he had never wanted to see his loyal companion in such a state.  
  
The man seated in the hospital bed resembled that sad character in some respects, haggard and gaunt in ways that left his cheeks sunken and wrists thin enough to snap with ease. But his hair was long and pulled away from his sunburned face and bruised shoulders, telling silent tales of his lengthy absence as he watched his two expected visitors stare at him.  
  
Gaius was the first to break the stillness, striding across the sterile room to kneel next to the bed. His relief was palpable as he found himself thinking about how _this_ was undoubtedly the prime dimension, with all of the fractured dimensions from the past destroyed.  
  
 _“Uti'su giidu tii sun'n yaio, Arst.”_  
  
His voice, much like his lips, was cracked with disuse. But it had been a long time that Gaius had felt such elation.  
  
“Where have you been all this time?” Perhaps it was tactless, to not even offer a greeting to a man long thought dead. But he had to know.  
  
Wingul’s lips curved upward in a small, dry smile, and he briefly acknowledged Rowen with a glance before returning his attention to his king. Both of them should hear his answer.  
  
“I was on a long and very unnecessary tropical vacation.”  
  
He rested one pale hand over Gaius’ gloved one. Gaius turned his hand to accept Wingul’s, fingers gently curling around his.  
  
“But I’m back now.”


	2. Dark Attire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius appreciates Wingul's clothes. No spoilers or content warnings. Written for Jae.

He had come to appreciate the dark attire that Wingul wore. The clothing choice had earned him the title as the Ebon Wing, and the less-spoken moniker as the king’s shadow. It was suitable for many functions that he had to attend, whether it be audiences with Auj Oule citizens, formal tactical meetings with clan representatives, or social gatherings with any mixture of dignitaries far and wide. It set him apart from those around him, cutting an impressive figure amongst countrymen even when in the presence of the other members of the Chimeriad.  
  
It also allowed him to locate Wingul when the rooftops, straining from a blizzard-induced heavy snowfall, sent an unfortunately large pile of snow crashing onto his head while they walked through the city.


	3. Every Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairly explicit Gaius/Wingul PWP below. Spoilers for Gaius and Wingul's names, I guess?

It would be a disservice to say that they forgot themselves whenever they were together. It would be easy to cast away their identities and settle into the utterly primal feelings that swept over them, their flushed faces dimly lit by the few candles that had not yet gone out. His fingers found the bed’s frame as he was pressed into from behind, nails digging crescents into the dark wood even as his hips sank deep into the mattress.  
  
 _“Arst.”_  
  
He turned his face to the side to gasp out the name, barely loosing one hand from its tight grip on the footboard to instead claw at the sheets. Callused hands moved surely along the contours of his rigid body, gliding over battle scars both faded and fairly new before pressing into the hollows of his hips and pulling him to his knees. He could practically hear the blood rushing to his ears as he was dragged backwards, his neck arching as he keened through harsh breaths.  
  
This was his commander. His leader and his lord. His friend, even if the term was not voiced aloud between them.  
  
A strong arm wrapped around his waist, easing some of the strain placed on his tense limbs by holding him up. Each thrust elicited a moan from his throat, his balance unsteady as one fist tangled up in the sheets. When the tempo slowed to an almost torturous pace, he tried to encourage Gaius to _move_ by wriggling his hips agitatedly, lest he lose what little dignity he held on to by curling up and tending to himself.  
  
As his long-time confidant, he was not afraid to speak his mind. Especially in bed.  
  
He writhed as he felt warm flesh against his back, bowing his head as Gaius bent over his rigid form and took him in hand. “Don’t tease me.” It took some effort to keep a curse from forming on his lips.  
  
That effort was all for naught when Gaius bit down on the crook of his neck; the words that flooded out of his mouth were in rough, stuttered Long Dau, as if he had momentarily forgotten his secondary language.  
  
Gaius paused when he heard the flurry of speech, rolling his hips forward once to listen to his partner gasp for breath underneath him.  
  
“Seya tiaeti egeumu, Lin.”  
  
He groaned at the request, thighs tensing when he felt a callused thumb press firmly against his tip. His frustration showed in the way he clawed at the sheets, even as he buried his face in his free hand.  
  
 _“No.”_  
  
When he felt Gaius beginning to pull out, Wingul loudly hissed his displeasure, shooting a furious glare over his shoulder through a curtain of disheveled hair.  
  
“Yaio edin giumugu tii _peya_ hidi tiausu.”  
  
Any other complaints were quickly driven out of Wingul’s mind as he was thrust into again.  
  
They never forgot just who they were when they were together like this. King and chief of staff. Lord and tactician. Confidants and partners. They retained every part of themselves while they indulged in each other’s company.  
  
But, sometimes, Wingul wished that Gaius would leave that odd humor of his at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Seya tiaeti egeumu, Lin.” = “Say that again, Lin.”
> 
> “Yaio edin giumugu tii peya hidi tiausu.” = “You are going to pay for this.”


	4. Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to "Stranded." Same warnings apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently I lied with that original summary of "unrelated drabbles and short stories."

It was only natural that Gaius wanted to spend every moment he possibly could with the remaining member of his Chimeriad. After all, Wingul had been considered dead for well over a year, and even now he was not in the best health. An uneven diet had slowly eaten away at what little body fat he had, and weathering the outdoors with makeshift shelter had left him with sores and bug bites that needed to be put through a gamut of tests. Their initial reunion had not prepared the king for Wingul’s long bouts of drowsiness; he had made a convincing display of lucidity for all of five minutes before falling asleep while Rowen explained Elympion politics.  
  
But being the King of Rieze Maxia meant that Gaius could not remain by Wingul’s side while he recovered; he still had to speak with Elympion leaders about united statements on the Land of Canaan’s appearance and disappearance, as well as the possibility of holding the Spirius Corporation accountable for damages in Marksburg. Though the current world events only served to confuse Wingul, he firmly recommended that Gaius return to his duties and spare him no mind.  
  
Some things never changed, and it surprised Gaius just how much that came as a comfort to him.  
  
Wingul was transferred to a hospital in Trigleph to continue his recovery after the doctors expressed concern about the prototype booster still embedded in his head. Though he had not risked deliberately activating it over the course of the year, Wingul admitted to frequent headaches that reminded him of the months following his experimental surgery—and Gaius had a feeling there was more to that, considering his pride.  
   
After two days of meetings that took Gaius and Rowen back and forth between Trigleph and Marksburg, they returned to visit Wingul. His long hair was worn down now that it had been properly cleaned, covering some of the more severe skin peeling that was beginning to occur from his sunburns. When he noticed his visitors, Wingul set aside the pad of paper he had been writing on and nodded to each of them in acknowledgment.  
  
Gaius noticed a certain stiffness to the greeting—perhaps a sign that Wingul was not used to seeing Rowen at his side. But no one spoke of it, instead focusing on little pleasantries to fill the silence.  
  
“I come bearing gifts.” Rowen smiled as he removed a thick book and small device from the bag he carried. Wingul raised a brow but accepted the offered items while Rowen explained. “A history book on Elympios and the development of its political system. The latest edition even includes mention of Rieze Maxia in its current events chapter.”  
  
“How thoughtful.” Gaius noticed the way Wingul’s fingers flexed around the book’s spine, and his eyes strayed to the pen and notebook that had been set aside. He recognized the strokes and curves of Wingul’s writing, peppered with erratic slips that spoiled the normal, graceful flow—a development he had not seen before. “And what is this other thing?”  
  
Rowen stroked his beard and leaned back in his chair, cheerful despite Wingul’s continued monotone. “A GHS—a device capable of long-range communication that is popular here in Elympios.” At those words, Wingul showed visible interest, and Rowen continued with bolstered enthusiasm. “We thought you would appreciate a way to contact Gaius while we continue traveling.”  
  
The exclusion of himself earned Rowen a glance from both Gaius and Wingul, but the latter was already finding something else to focus on. Holding up the GHS, he pointed to the little yellow etchings on the back of the black case. “What is this design?”  
  
“I looked for a style that would be appropriate for you.” Gaius spoke with his usual confidence, nodding at the repeated design on the back. “They are supposed to be peepits.”  
  
“…Peepits.”  
  
“Black and yellow peepits.” Again, the king nodded, unruffled by Wingul’s nonplussed expression. “Do you not like them? I found them charming.”  
  
“But not as charming as cats,” Rowen interjected.  
  
“Not as charming as cats.” That went without saying, but if Rowen needed the verbal affirmation, Gaius would allow it. As he watched Wingul curiously push buttons, he offered a warning. “You will want to be careful operating it; the power switch can be quite tricky.”  
  
There was a moment of silence as Wingul averted his eyes from the GHS to slowly blink at the king and prime minister. He set the device down, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then picked it up again when it hummed to life.  
  
“I think I am going to need to know how to contact you, Ilbert.”  
  
Gaius could only frown in slight confusion as Rowen began laughing heartily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out in my head as a dramatic short that needed to be separated from a funny follow-up I was originally going to write. And then Gaius started talking.
> 
> I do think a dramatic short will eventually happen, though. Somewhere.


	5. Better than the Alternative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief GaiWin drabble based on the premise of an AU take at the Temporal Crossroads. Spoilers for Wingul's fate.

He writes to remember the little things.  
  
The number of a particular tax form. The type of tea he takes when he suffers a cold.  
  
Nils’ surname. The importance of a gladiolus.  
  
Sometimes confusion flashes in his eyes when Gaius holds him close.  
  
Sometimes he simply stares at Gaius across the room and finds himself at a loss how to feel about the king.  
  
In the face of fear he doesn’t dare give a voice, he writes. Notes upon notes upon notes.  
  
At his desk. On his mirror. By his bedside. In his pocket.  
  
 _Tax form 2-21. Rose hip._  
  
 _Frieden. The sword lily is a symbol to the memory of Auj Oule’s dead._  
  
 _He holds you because he loves you and he almost lost you once._  
  
 _He is your everything._  
  
It was better than the alternative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d been contemplating this drabble for several days and how to execute it. I think it turned out well.


	6. A Teepo in the Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius returns to Kanbalar from traveling around Rieze Maxia to find Wingul's done something bizarre while he was away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes references to Tales of Xillia 2 that can be construed as a spoilers. This was inspired by the "naked bonding experience" function in Teepo and comments made by YumeHanabi and RollingTomorrow. The end result is rather suggestive and brain-breaking, so consider that a warning! GaiWin.

It wasn’t often that Gaius was rendered dumbfounded. While he could certainly be taken by surprise, he usually recovered quickly enough to respond before an explanation had to be supplied.  
  
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the giant Teepo doll in the middle of his bedroom.  
  
Elize, as far as he knew, was nowhere near Kanbalar; school had long ago started up again, and she wouldn’t be able to travel far from Sharilton without missing her classes. Teepo was almost certainly with her, and _not_ sitting in his bedroom while expanded to such a gargantuan size as to touch the ceiling.  
  
He took a step back when the Teepo doll blinked and opened its mouth.  
  
“Gaius?”  
  
That … was most definitely not the voice he associated with Teepo. In fact, if he thought about it for a moment and removed the distortion from the voice…  
  
 _“Wingul?”_ His bewilderment was palpable, and he quickly righted himself to look around the room again. While he had been looking for the younger man upon returning to Kanbalar, this was highly unusual on so many levels.  
  
An answer did not come right away, as if a moment was needed to process whatever was detectable in Gaius’ voice. “Rowen isn’t with you?” Was it his imagination, or was there a thread of hesitance to that question?  
  
“He’s my prime minister, Wingul—there is no reason for him to be in my bedroom.”  
  
The Teepo doll’s face scrunched up like it had eaten something distasteful, seeming to puff out smoke from the edges of its mouth. “That never stopped _me_ before.”  
  
Now fully recovered from his initial shock, Gaius tilted his head up at the Teepo doll’s face and gave it a flat look, as if it was capable of registering just how unimpressed he was by that comment. A moment later, Wingul cleared his throat—and the Teepo doll audibly mimicked the motion. “I seem to have encountered a problem while using this booster.”  
  
The king sighed, glancing behind him to ensure that he had shut the door before focusing again on the doll. “Did we not already have this conversation? You should not even _have_ that booster.”  
  
“That is not the issue at hand and you know it.” The Teepo doll had developed what could only be described as a defensive expression, eyes narrowed and chest puffed up slightly. It was very disconcerting when he knew who was controlling the doll’s expressions.  
  
“Where _are_ you?” When his search of the bedroom failed to produce results, Gaius again turned his gaze up at the doll’s face.  
  
“Inside.” Just as quickly as the defensive look had appeared, it faded to an uncomfortable knitting of colored brows. “That’s the problem.”  
  
 _Well then._ Gaius folded his arms across his chest, frowning. “I am not destroying Teepo to get you out of there, Wingul.”  
  
“This isn’t Elize’s Teepo, Gaius.” The annoyance was quite obvious.  
  
“My decision still stands.”  
  
There was a muted _thump_ from inside of the giant toy, and Gaius averted his eyes lower just in time to see a foot-sized bump in the stretchable cloth before it disappeared from sight.  
  
“You wouldn’t hesitate if you knew one of your precious cats were in here.” The Teepo doll shot a scathing glare down at him.  
  
The king remained unperturbed in the face of such contempt. “My cats would know better than to climb into a giant toy from which they could not escape.”  
  
There was a very muffled, very angry _“Arst!”_ from within the Teepo doll’s stomach. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gaius finally relented and walked over one of the walls where he displayed several of his prized swords. Upon choosing a sword and leaving its sheath behind, he walked over and carefully cut a long slit down the doll’s center.  
  
A familiar face popped out of the slit, flushed and irritated. Shaking his head at his friend, Gaius turned to set his sword back where it belonged before facing Wingul.  
  
He blinked once. “Why are you naked?” The question was followed by an appreciative, if perplexed, look as he walked closer to the younger man.  
  
“ _That_ is why I asked if Rowen was with you.” Wingul stood in front of Gaius, unashamed of his current state and somehow unbothered by Kanbalar’s constant cold—perhaps because of the plume of steam that flowed out of the slit.  
  
A new list of questions was beginning to form in Gaius’ head, but he wasn’t given a chance to contemplate the existence of the steam before Wingul sidled behind him and shoved him forward—straight into the hole he had just created in the Teepo doll. Landing face first in a lime-green pool inside the doll, Gaius spat out a mouthful of the oddly tangy liquid and looked over his shoulder to see Wingul climbing inside again. He gingerly flipped over in the knee-deep liquid, eyeing the smirk aimed at him.  
  
“You planned this.”  
  
Wingul gave a mock bow, gracefully straddling the king and reaching down to stroke his damp hair. “I was fully ready to have Teepo eat you if you did not comply. Welcome home, Your Highness.”  
  
Even though he was slow to relax under the current circumstances, Gaius did not reject the handful of kisses pressed against his chin and the corners of his lips—or the not-so-subtle grinding against his hips. “Inside a child’s toy? This is highly inappropriate.”  
  
The tactician sniffed delicately at the criticism. “Until I have an idea for an innocuous replacement item, the doll will have to do. Does it offend you that much?”  
  
As if to dissuade the king from answering, Wingul rocked his hips emphatically and smirked again at the stuttered moan. However, as he leaned down for another kiss, he was stopped by a hand against his chest. “My clothes.”  
  
A quiet laugh passed between Wingul’s lips as he slid his index finger down the curve of Gaius’ jaw.  
  
“Don’t worry. Those won’t be an issue for very long.”


	7. Tis the Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the Chimeriad celebrating Christmas with their king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for ebonwinged-nova on Tumblr; I asked for writing prompts one day, and received the prompt to pretend the Chimeriad celebrated Christmas in Rieze Maxia.

Presa fought to keep the smile from her face at the sight of the plate of cookies Wingul held. “I never would have taken you as a baker, Wingul.” She gingerly took one of the cookies, tracing her fingers along its edges and admiring the vibrant colors.  
  
“It was a joint effort.” Wingul pivoted as soon as Presa took one of the cookies, walking over to where Jiao was carefully putting the star on top of the decorated tree. “Jiao had far more patience with mixing the ingredients and working the dough.”  
  
“Of course, Wingul provided the artistry,” Jiao remarked, plucking one of the cookies from the offered plate once he was done with his task. “The colors came out quite well.”  
  
Feigning disinterest, Agria slowly ambled over from where she had been sitting next to the fireplace to meet Wingul. With a close up of the designed cookies, she shrieked with laughter and quickly snatched three to fan them out with both hands. “You two losers made these? His Highness is going to _flip_.”  
  
“Doubtful.” Wingul’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as he looked past Agria. Gaius stood at the threshold of the room, wearing a costume of vibrant red and white fur, complete with a matching hat and charcoal black boots. “I needed a model, after all.”  
  
Agria gaped and Presa stared unabashedly at the king as he entered and unburdened himself of the large bag he had slung over one shoulder. Jiao stopped in taking the first bite of his cookie, strangling a chuckle.  
  
Gaius took one look at his nonplussed Chimeriad, brushing at the white-trimmed vest that did nothing to cover his defined clavicle and well-toned arms, and greeted them as fitting for the season.  
  
“Ho ho ho.”


	8. Nervousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius chooses terrible times to be a tease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for Gaius and Wingul's first time or them trying to figure out how they feel about each other was submitted by YumeHanabi over Tumblr. GaiWin; warning for kissing, foreplay, and Gaius being embarrassing.

As he straddled Gaius’ thighs and braced his hands against his shoulders, Wingul wondered how they had arrived at this point. He hated to overthink matters, knowing that each repeat analysis simply injected more of his emotions and added to his stress, but considering the niggling worry that someone could interrupt them even in the middle of the night…

He tensed as fingers entangled in his hair, resisting for a moment before allowing Gaius to draw him down into a short kiss. “Try not to look so nervous.”

Wingul scoffed at the advice as he tilted his face away, fingers twitching against the rough fabric of Gaius’ shirt. “That is _precisely_ what you should not say to someone who is nervous.” Any anger that might have been taken from his words was offset by the faint color that stained his cheeks.

When the only reaction he received was a twitchy smile, Wingul muttered something crossly in Long Dau and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Gaius drew him close, fingers kneading at his hipbones through the long shirt that shrouded most of his body.

“I can’t recall the last time I saw you act this shy.” Teasing amusement brought a certain light to Gaius’ eyes, but he laughed only when Wingul shoved one of his shoulders in irritation. He kissed the corner of his mouth almost apologetically, hands slowly stopping in their continuous massage.

“I didn’t say you should stop.” The tactician frowned, his eyes flitting down between them to stare accusingly at Gaius’ hands.

Another soft chuckle escaped from Gaius’ lips as he complied, though he took the step of gathering up Wingul’s shirt and hiking it up enough to expose his naked lower torso. Gaius secured his arms around the younger man’s waist as he began to squirm, surprising him with an emphatic nip at the base of his throat.

“You are _enjoying_ this.” Wingul began to retaliate by twisting his fingers through Gaius’ thick hair, but another nip at his throat stilled him for a moment.

“It’s cute. _You_ are cute.”

Wingul hissed, following through with the hair-pulling even as his face heated up. He had certainly heard Gaius call him beautiful before, but _that_ … He was quite obviously teasing. “If this is your idea of foreplay, it’s _terrible,_ Arst.”

The firm tug at his hair did nothing to keep the smile from Gaius’ face; he simply rolled his hips forward and let his hands drift down to the smooth skin of Wingul’s inner thighs.

“You’ll have to forgive me; I never get to embarrass you, Lin.” Gaius murmured as he slowly dragged his callused fingers across pale and sensitive skin, tantalizingly close but always stopping short of actually touching him. He hummed as Wingul fidgeted on his lap, fingers still in motion as he pressed another kiss against his throat.

“If you would prefer something harder, just say the word.”


	9. Bumps in the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes making silly excuses seems like a better idea than admitting you want to kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written based off of a prompt given by RollingTomorrow: Gaius and Wingul's first kiss.

They had never kissed before.  
  
There was no way to misconstrue a kiss. A quick embrace, the clasping of their hands together, a lingering touch—those could be passed off as accidents or friendship developing between the two. But even those were risky when they were almost constantly surrounded by other soldiers; Gaius rarely took to a private tent beyond when he had strategy sessions with his advisors, even resting among the other soldiers in order to maintain trust and communication between the officers and frontline forces. It was admirable and spoke towards the kind of Auj Oule that Gaius wanted for the future.  
  
Wingul was fine without the display; he had always felt that a certain amount of decorum was necessary, especially when something could be misread as a leader’s weakness. Both he and Gaius had put personal feelings aside for a dream that was bigger than them, redefining who they were and leaving their pasts to be judged by the annals of history.  
  
But he was human. And it was normal for humans to crave affection once in a while.  
  
Being inside his own head, Wingul could scold himself for bowing to his hormones and compare himself to Gaius, who could strike a perfectly imposing figure and stand stoically amongst his companions. He could criticize his weaknesses and dwell on them even as he listened intently with the other assembled officers as Gaius went over intelligence from Taurus’ far-flung scouts. He could minimize Nils’ concerns when his friend caught sight of him daydreaming by one of the campfires, stubbornly silent about what he knew should not circulate throughout the troops.  
  
So when Gaius turned to look at him while they sat in the back of a wagon piled with equipment and rations, Wingul held up the list as if expecting him to ask about the supplies they had just obtained from a nearby Cheagle village. Gaius plucked the scroll from his hand and carefully rolled it up, scooting over so they were sitting side by side. The wagon rattled as it hit a large bump in the road, causing Gaius to slide right into Wingul and sending packages and small items raining down on them.  
  
A small, solidly packaged bundle of dried meat collided with Wingul’s head, momentarily stunning him and causing him to sway like a buoy in tumultuous waters.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
Wingul groaned out some sort of reply, dazedly noting that Gaius had grabbed his arm to keep him from toppling against the side of the wagon. When the wagon hit another bump, Gaius adjusted his grip to anchor Wingul against him while the driver shouted an apology from the front.  
  
Tentatively reaching up, Wingul sighed as his fingers found the aching area of his scalp, distractedly commenting that it could have been worse. He froze, hand still resting on his head, as he felt the strange sensation of Gaius pressing his lips against his hair.  
  
Catching sight of the incredulous look Wingul aimed at him, Gaius shrugged innocently and applied his rationale to the situation. “It’s not unheard of to kiss some places when they hurt.”  
  
Wingul snorted and looked away with a faint smile, rubbing at the tender spot thoughtfully.  
  
The next time the wagon hit a bump in the road, Gaius mysteriously ended up with a pack of candlesticks crashing right against his mouth. Or so the tale went when they returned to camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday, I will write something that doesn’t have some sort of quirky, funny ending. Today is not that day.


	10. Reading Silences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He no longer knew how to read the silence between them. (Something of a companion piece to Better than the Alternative.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written based on the sentence prompt "Can you repeat that?" given by YumeHanabi.

He no longer knew how to read the silence between them.

Once, it was a comfortable silence. Over ten years of comfortable silence. When they spoke, they would inevitably have to talk about the kingdom’s state of affairs or their schedules for the day. So they relied on silence to convey their feelings for one another—to allow them to simply be together and not be the driving forces behind the changing structure of Auj Oule.

He used to savor the shared silence. It meant that there was no political fire that had to be put out—that there was not something urgent that required him to deploy troops or leave personally with his retinue. It meant that they were alone, if only for a moment.

Now the silence carried demons.

He could see them on his face, in the way his brows drew together in confusion when he spoke. He could see them in the tilt of his head, when he wouldn’t even meet his eyes. The silence was itself a warzone in which he was often a helpless observer, a witness to a kind of weakness he could not properly fathom and he knew had never crossed either of their minds.

The victor only became clear if the silence carried on. They would clasp hands, or maybe a wry smile would grace his face as his expression chided him for being unnecessarily sappy. Then he would relax and the silence would be tentatively peaceful.

But in those instances where the silence was broken, he could feel the strike against his armored heart.

“What did you say?”

Those were words he never wanted to hear when he said ‘I love you.’


	11. An Awful Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're trying to keep your relationship a secret, trying to do anything in the morning is bound to cause trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written based off of the prompt from ebonwinged-nova on Tumblr: "Nils cockblocking Gaius and Wingul, intentionally or not." GaiWin fic. Warnings for some bizarre hilarity and Wingul being _so done_ with everything.

It had to be intentional. It _had_ to be.  
  
That was all Wingul could think to himself as he buried his face in his hands, trying to rein in his seething before Nils looked up from the stack of books he had brought into his bedroom. There was no good reason why Nils should be in and out of his room _four times_ in a little over a half-hour.  
  
Except for perhaps the fact that he had said he was feeling ill the first time Nils opened the door. And it was a decent excuse really, considering he was perspiring, red in the face, and still in bed well after the kitchens had transitioned from breakfast to lunch preparation.  
  
The first time, Nils had apologized and asked if he was still planning on getting breakfast. His mind absolutely frazzled by the interruption, Wingul had smoothed the blankets on his bed distractedly and given his excuse. Nils fretted, of course, tucking the sheets around him as he had done when he was much smaller before heading out of the room.  
  
The second time was all of three minutes later, as Nils stepped in again and hurriedly asked Lin (it was always Lin—it would never not be Lin) if he wanted his most recently used clothes gathered for the wash. Wingul had reluctantly glanced at the shirt, jacket, and cloak that were strewn across the arms of a chair by his bed, quickly noting that his clothes wouldn’t be the only ones found in the pile, and told Nils that he would like to save his clothes for later. Nils had accepted that with a hopeful smile, giving a little bow before taking his leave.  
  
He had waited apprehensively for almost five minutes before allowing Gaius out from underneath the bed and climbing out of bed himself. “The maids need to clean under your bed,” the king remarked blandly, squinting at the dust bunnies Wingul plucked out of his hair.  
  
"I hope you’re not planning an extended stay down there." At the time, Wingul had been able to smirk at the little joke, tugging Gaius down into a kiss.  
  
The intimate moment was quickly dashed by three knocks on the door in rapid succession. Wingul tightened his grip on Gaius’ neck, reluctant to let him go again. “What is it, Nils?” Wingul called, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.  
  
"I brought you lunch, Lin. Because breakfast isn’t available anymore."  
  
Wingul banged his head softly against Gaius’ bare shoulder, sighing audibly. “I’m not hungry.”  
  
"You really should eat something, Lin. You need to keep your strength up, especially at the beginning of a sickness."  
  
When the doorknob rattled, Wingul found himself off-balance as Gaius made a lunge for the bed. A plaintive meow could be heard from behind the bedroom door, which seemed to still the doorknob for a moment; Nils’ voice, incomprehensible at a lower volume, could be heard as a second meow pierced the tense silence. Wingul had his hands planted on the edge of the mattress as if Nils’ interruption had dragged him out of bed, a glare aimed at his retainer the moment he stumbled into the room, followed by one of Gaius’ numerous felines.  
  
"I’m sorry, Lin, but I have to insist," Nils earnestly murmured, trying not to step on the black cat as it weaved between his legs while he carried a meal tray to Wingul’s bedside table. He seemed oblivious to the real reason for Wingul’s glare, coaxing the younger man back into bed once the tray was safely placed on the table.  
  
As soon as Nils was more than three steps away, the bold cat leapt up to look over the prepared meal and snatched a steak kabob off of the plate. Nils yelped and gave chase, trying to dart after the cat as it sought shelter under a chair. Wingul was immediately out of bed again, eyes wide with alarm as the cat scurried underneath his bed.  
  
 _"No!"_ He was shouting—definitely shouting—as he crossed in front of his bed to dissuade Nils from kneeling down. “Leave it _alone_ , Nils.”  
  
Nils looked understandably perplexed; Lin did little to mask his distaste for the sheer number of cats on the palace grounds, and here was one intruding upon his room and _stealing_ his food. “Are you sure? I can at least chase it out…”  
  
"I said _no_. Now will you please leave? I can’t _see_ straight with this headache.” A headache brought on by Nils’ constant interruptions, but he wasn’t going to say that.  
  
The black cat chose that moment to slink out from under the bed, flicking its tail back and forth as it padded out of the room with its prize. Nils let out an embarrassed laugh, giving one last apology before leaving again.  
  
Wingul groaned his own apology to Gaius as he again crawled out from underneath the bed, again picking at the dust that clung to his dark hair. “I could never fault Nils for his dedication, but his timing is certainly … something.” Gaius shook his head and brushed at his arms.  
  
"If he bursts in here again, I don’t know what I will do." Wingul was much more cross, his jaw tense even as Gaius kissed his forehead.  
  
He would have his chance to react nine minutes later, only shortly after they had decided against continuing and Gaius had started redressing himself. There was another succession of knocks on the door, followed shortly by Nils’ voice. “Lin? I brought some books for you.”  
  
Wingul buried his face in his hands while Gaius grabbed his robe and headpiece and dove under the bed again, fingers twitching halfway into fists as Nils entered the room with his arms laden with books. This time, Nils didn’t stay very long; he just gave an apologetic grin before making himself scarce.  
  
But it was enough. Oh, it was enough. If Wingul could produce and manipulate mana from his eyes alone, his glare between his spread fingers would have made Nils spontaneously combust right there on the spot. As Gaius once again crawled out from underneath the bed, Wingul remained under the sheets and seethed.  
  
"We are never doing this in the morning again. Ever." His voice was firm, his words absolute.  
  
Gaius reached down and stroked his golden lock of hair that refused to obey gravity. Wingul huffed and leaned into his hand, slowly beginning to relax and slide out of bed again.  
  
Another knock drove Wingul straight to his feet, and he stormed right past Gaius on his way to the door. Gaius reached for him and missed, grimacing faintly as he momentarily imagined Wingul facing Nils with his booster activated. He took a few steps after him, but remained far enough away that he wouldn’t be in immediate sight.  
  
But it wasn’t Nils on the other side of the door when Wingul threw it open.  
  
It was Jiao.  
  
The sight of the Kitarl patriarch instantly took the wind out of Wingul’s sails, and he stared up at him with an openly confused expression.  
  
Jiao reached up to scratch his brow as he tilted his head down at Wingul. His lips curled into an embarrassed, if amused, smile. “I heard from one of the cats that His Highness was in distress under your bed.”  
  
Gaius was immediately at Wingul’s side to clap a hand over his mouth before he started yelling obscenities in Long Dau.


	12. Important Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius and Wingul prepare for bed. GaiWin.

Wingul resolutely continued looking at Gaius as he unbuckled his belt and carefully set his sword down, following the example previously set on the other side of the room. There were few things that left them uncomfortable around each other nowadays, with their attraction revealed and the majority of their repressed thoughts shared. A heavy cloak and fur-lined jacket soon followed, leaving him in a thick shirt he was used to wearing to bed.

The subject of pursuing any sort of relationship really should not have been uncomfortable or embarrassing; they had more privacy than most, and no one would question Gaius’ long strategy sessions with his increasingly important tactician. Wingul’s discomfort mainly stemmed from how much he _wanted_ it; there was an amount of decorum expected, having been important to the Long Dau elite and now playing a role in Gaius’ revolution, and teenage hormones had no place whatsoever in a war campaign.

Yet here they were, in Gaius’ room.

He didn’t realize just how tense he was until he felt Gaius’ hands on his shoulders, and he glanced behind him. Despite how little Gaius’ expression tended to change, he had learned how to read the small variances.

“Having second thoughts?”

“And third. And fourth.” Wingul’s expression soured as he noted the gleam of amusement in the older teenager’s eyes, but he didn’t move away as Gaius guided him over to the bed.

“I suppose I deserve that. I’m the very epitome of untoward advances.”

Wingul balked at Gaius’ joke, jamming an elbow into his laughing commander’s side and walking the rest of the way to sit at the foot of the bed alone. When Gaius joined him a short while later, he came bearing a question.

“Left or right?”

They stared at each other with the unanswered question hanging between them, slowly frowning as their eyes averted to the bed.

Clearly they had not thought this idea through.


	13. The Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wingul and Jiao sometimes shared a hill in the Mon Highlands.

Some days, they would share a hill.

The hill itself wasn’t particularly special—a mound high enough from which to spot approaching monsters if they strayed too close, larger than most hills but still dwarfed by the numerous mountains surrounding the highlands. But it sat fairly close to Kanbalar and had a nice view when the weather was fair, and that was enough for the purpose of getting away from the capital.

The first time they had visited the hill, Wingul was ordered to take a break from updating the military budgetary dossiers and had rather sullenly accepted Jiao’s invitation; Gaius had given him a rather stern look and watched them leave to ensure that Wingul did not slip away and return to his work. Jiao had smiled upon noticing the particularly intense way Gaius watched his advisor, waving back at the king to assure him that he would keep an eye on their hardheaded tactician.

Wingul sought to defy Gaius by bringing notes along with him as Jiao led the way, his eyes scanning the thin scrolls that several missives had been transcribed to in excruciatingly small lettering. Jiao talked about the snowbirds and other animals that would be active during the periods of calm on the highlands, not minding his companion’s silence. When they reached the top of the hill, Jiao pinched the back of Wingul’s cloak to stop him, as he was still thoroughly engrossed in the paperwork he had brought along.

An unearthed boulder jutted out of the ground, providing a decent spot to sit once the snow was cleared away. Jiao said nothing to break Wingul’s concentration, his gaze focused on a point of light far in the distance during the moments that he was not entertained by the visiting snowbirds.

Though he had little interest in whatever it was Jiao was doing, Wingul soon ran out of scrolls and had reluctantly tucked them away. It was just as well; the light was quickly fading over the highlands, and they would need to head back soon.

“Are we finished here?” he inquired irritably, his thoughts still focused on his work.

“We can go,” Jiao confirmed, smiling as he lifted his hand so the remaining snowbirds could flit away.

The second time they visited the hill, Gaius caught Wingul trying to bring along some of his paperwork and promptly stripped him of his reading materials. Jiao watched from a safe distance as the two men had a rather intense exchange of words, patiently waiting for Wingul to storm off towards the castle gates. He lumbered after the young man, allowing him to grouse in silence until they reached the hill.

This time, there was nothing to distract Wingul from the chill as they sat on the boulder, even without the blustery winds that whipped snowstorms through the highlands. Though he managed to resist the urge to curl up into an undignified ball, he frowned out at the white display.

“You should slow down and look at what is around you once in awhile, Wingul.”

He frowned at Jiao’s remark, averting his gaze from the whiteness that was beginning to hurt his eyes. Jiao was once again looking to something far off in the distance.

“I miss nothing of importance. You know that, Jiao.”

Silence was his answer. Wingul’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly in a halfhearted attempt to see what Jiao was so intently looking at across the highlands. While he didn’t ask outright, the audible grunt he made as he lowered his head was filled with displeasure.

A rumbling laugh tumbled out of Jiao’s daunting frame, and he turned smiling eyes to his companion. “You may need to sit up a little more to see what I see,” he revealed, lifting one hand to comb callused fingers through his beard. “On days like these, when everything is still, you can see Hamil’s spirit clime from here.”

The skepticism was obvious on Wingul’s face, but he said nothing doubting what the man saw. “And what is so special about that? From here, the spirit clime would appear like a tiny speck of light at best.”

“Even tiny things should be appreciated.” As Jiao untangled his fingers from his beard, he held it aloft as a snowbird swooped by. “But they’re often forgotten or left underfoot, or never seen at all.”

Wingul eyed the snowbird that came around again to perch on Jiao, briefly wondering if he had missed something of significance. Something about the animals and monsters under his care? Something about Hamil itself?

Though he would eventually dismiss those thoughts, they would rise again every time he accompanied Jiao to the hill. The hill itself served as a reminder, even if he never cared enough about the allusion to pursue further conversation on the subject.

It would only be years later, after the booster laboratory was shut down and its young test subjects were left in his care, that he would realize what Jiao was talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve wanted to write something involving Jiao for a long time, but actual ideas aren’t very forthcoming with him.


	14. The Storm Itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wingul's prototype booster allows him great power--at a price.

He saw lightning in his eyes.

That was the first thought to cross his mind as he noticed the intensity turned towards him. Raw power exploding from the confines of the mind, seething forth in a surge of fire and wind that spun together into a completely different element.

He looked into those golden eyes in hopes of seeing something familiar, but all he saw were their churning depths.

Madness. The change had taken the color from his hair and the reason from his gaze, had curled his frown into a vicious, crazed smile that unnerved more than one soldier at his side.

“Your Highness.”

He lifted his hand at the deep voice, his order for Jiao to stand down wordless. The movement earned him a sword pointed at his throat, the distance between doing little to diminish the overt threat. Six quick steps were all it would take for that sword to find its mark, and its wielder had earned the title of the Ebon Wing before the booster enhanced his abilities.

He never averted his eyes as he lifted his sword to meet his opponent.

In the past, they would bring their swords together in the heat of battle to call down the storm.

Now Wingul was the storm itself.


	15. Unneeded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, Wingul contemplates Gaius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst alert. Spoilers for the end of Tales of Xillia. _Common stuff for me, really._

Misery was not a feeling that Wingul often allowed of himself.

From a young age, he had purpose and power—more than most children he would ever meet in his lifetime. Despite how contrary his thoughts and talents would be to the traditional skills valued by Auj Oule’s tribes, he had opportunity and esteem as his birthright. How could he allow himself to wallow in despair when he had so many resources at his fingertips?

His mindset saw him through the many difficult moments in his young life, from the internal strife of the Long Dau tribe following his father’s death to the mounting deaths of his other family members, including his mother. He set himself on the path towards the betterment of Auj Oule, striving for ambitious changes that would unite the country rather than see it in constant conflict within its numerous tribes.

Then he met Gaius.

It had to be delirium that made him laugh; the thought of Gaius should not have made him erupt into anguished, choked sounds as his fingernails grated against rock. Was all of this not for Gaius? Had he not thrown himself wholeheartedly into the plans of Gaius’ ascent? Had he not worked for years to change the country for the better, with Gaius as the indomitable spirit of the new era?

All of his toiling and fighting, only to die some obscure death without acknowledgment. It sounded so noble—the picture of loyalty. But his heart screamed for recognition, especially in these final moments.

_I’m dying for you._

It wasn’t something that he hadn’t said before, when they were both much younger men and less important to the world as a whole. Already a leader for several years and no stranger to such proclamations of loyalty, Gaius had looked at him in silence. What was there to say, after all? It was the decision made by a boy who had yet to step on the battlefield as Gaius’ tactician.

He had not stopped dying since then. If anything, he accelerated his death by taking part in the booster research experiments to rebuild his crumpled pride. The benefit of potential betterment of the country was carefully weighed with the cons, but his own health mattered little; if he died in the experiments, it would be proof that he was no longer useful to Gaius, and that Ortega Kitarl was as much his successor as he was a component towards his death.

But he survived. He lived a good number of years after the experiments, even with the booster sapping his strength every time he used it. Gaius cautioned him against overusing the device, but the power always seemed necessary—his energy and concentration an acceptable loss.

Most things were acceptable losses if it meant clearing the way for Gaius. As long as he never lost his resolve, he would lay down his life for him.

That was why it rankled when he confronted Ilbert. The Conductor had fled his king’s side, wracked by his own personal doubts, and left the country to suffer under a king who had lost his way. They carried on in very different ways.

His pride was coming back to haunt him. As he shuddered for breath, he rescinded his petty desire for recognition. Gaius didn’t need someone at his side who was willing to die for him, to be useful and then dropped the moment they became a burden. Perhaps in the past. Perhaps further in the past than he wanted to admit.

He needed someone who would _live_ for him. Someone who would carry through with every intention of fighting another day.

The miserable, mad laughter that wracked his body was aimed at himself. Such a fatalistic attitude.

Gaius wouldn’t need people like him in his new world.


	16. Unfair Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written with a "mischief managed" prompt from a writing meme. Something short and silly.

“What did I tell you about things like this, Gaius?”

Gaius’ silence was not sullen. Not at all. With a frown on his face, Wingul snapped the lid back onto the tub of ice cream he had confiscated, deftly dodging his king’s attempt to grab the container before he carried it away.

“I don’t know what you were expecting.” The tactician continued his chiding as he turned on his heel, carrying the ice cream to the icebox where it would be exposed to Kanbalar’s cold weather without disturbance from the various lamps maintaining the castle’s heat. “I told you in no uncertain terms the conditions of our agreement.”

Gaius drummed his fingers on the tabletop, eyes slowly averting to Wingul from where they had been focusing on the icebox. “I would prefer that those conditions be reviewed.”

“You mean, redrawn. Or _withdrawn_.”

Gaius had the good sense to not nod in agreement, even if his implication was obvious.

_“No.”_

Had he been any other person, Gaius would have visibly deflated. But the Dawn King had a certain reputation to uphold.

Even if it was over something as simple as eating dinner before dessert.

A dinner consisting entirely of Gaius dumpling samples.


	17. As Things Change...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the war is in sight. As they take a moment to rest, Wingul and Gaius address future changes and their resolve.

Officers and injured always had first pick of buildings when a new settlement was won over from Melard. A detachment of soldiers accompanied the officers as their inhabited the buildings, maintaining watch and sending runners between the settlement and the main body of troops bedding on the plains.

It was a change Gaius had been somewhat reluctant to accept; as the leader of a much smaller rebellion, he was used to being amongst his troops, sharing their space and walking between their campfires as the sun gave way for starlight. Even weeks after the initial decision was made, he still exited his quarters expecting the immediacy of the rest of the army, with their absence often leading to restless walks between secured areas.

"Your inability to cope with this change is remarkable, General."

Wingul's monotone, coupled with the title usage, told Gaius of the layers of disapproval his strategist otherwise left unsaid. He crossed his arms and waited while Wingul verified an inventory list and sent it off with a runner back to the supply tents.

"We have already changed up plans to allow you to remain with the main body of the army once in awhile. That was based on sound tactics." Wingul's gaze went to the mountainous terrain that provided a natural defense to one side of the tribal settlement. The officers were at their safest in between the troops and the natural barrier.

"Sound tactics don't necessarily equate to comfort," Gaius replied, his own eyes looking past torchlight to the starry skies above. "But I am _coping_ just fine; you need not overstate it."

There was a skeptical noise from the teenage boy, and he twirled the writing quill he still held in one hand. "I only state it because changes are occurring even faster than last year. We've increased the army's size by another three percent in the past month. At this rate, we will be able to face Xian Du's defenses in the next half-year--and quite possibly march on Kanbalar in another."

Gaius flicked his gaze back to Wingul as he rattled off approximations, waiting for the conclusion. "The end of the war is becoming increasingly clear. From there, the real changes begin."

The finality of the statement was met with a moment of silence. Gaius averted his eyes to the stars again, expression contemplative. "My resolve has not changed. I did not take action only to stop once Melard is dethroned."

They rarely spoke so plainly about their overall goals; Gaius' ambition burned like an intense flame, often understandable without explanation. Wingul continued to twist the quill in his hand, the dour frown on his face belonging to someone decades older. "It doesn't hurt to hear it voiced once in awhile."

A breathless little laugh escaped Gaius, breaking an otherwise serious demeanor. "Enjoying playing the critic, Wingul?"

"Someone needs to be your biggest critic." Wingul tilted his head to one side, finally storing away the writing instrument. "But yes. It reminds me that you are human."

Gaius said nothing as he once again looked at his companion. Wingul stepped closer, golden eyes dusky in the long shadow of the much taller man. "When the war ends, it will be important to keep your image positive with the people. I will be using most of my time encouraging them to trust you and accept you as the best person to lead this country."

"You think you will fall for your own propaganda," he finally said.

"It's not propaganda." Wingul shook his head emphatically, gaze piercing. "I would not _be_ here if it was simply propaganda." His jaw briefly clenched, as if he was working through being offended by the implication. "But distance grows when you are continuously placing someone on a pedestal."

They stared at each other, frowning--Wingul, in determination, and Gaius, in thought. The silence stretched, only broken by their own breath and the embers crackling off firelights.

Then Gaius reached up and tweaked Wingul's nose.

Wingul, to his credit, kept quiet as he reddened and covered his nose once it was released. Gaius' facial features changed little, but his eyes were fond, and tone confiding, as he dropped his hand on the glaring teenager's shoulder.

"I do not think you have anything to worry about."


	18. Attention Getter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gaius walked into the room and burst out laughing._
> 
> (That's it. That's the premise.)

Gaius walked into the room and burst out laughing.

Wingul frowned in discontent at his unexpected audience, shooting a glare over his shoulder before tying off the sash that completed his prospective attire. “You should stop that before someone incorrectly assumes you have a sense of humor, Your Highness.”

Gaius fought to regain his composure, bringing a hand to his chest as if suppressing another laugh from rising to his throat. “My apologies. I am not quite sure what came over me.”

The heat disappeared from Wingul’s gaze, but he continued frowning as he turned to face his king. “Attempting to lie right after an emotional outburst? You know better.”

Gaius’ face was an impassive mask within seconds, offset by his wry tone. “Continue deflecting like that and I may just laugh again.” It was something that could only be considered a threat between the two of them. “Why exactly are you wearing that?”

“It caught your attention, did it not?” Wingul matched Gaius’ neutral expression, doing a remarkable job of not shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

“Of course it did.” Five long steps covered the distance from the entranceway to Wingul’s side, and Gaius scrutinized the unusually charming robe from a much closer perspective. He remained silent for a moment, brow slowly rising in question before he spoke again. “This seems like a bit much, though.”

“Considering how much time you have been spending with those cats of yours, I thought it necessary.”

Another laugh was smothered into a quiet snort. Gaius reached up to adjust the dark sash so he could see more of the tiny felines patterned on Wingul’s robe. “It seems a little desperate, Lin.”

Wingul rolled his eyes, a flippant remark already on his lips. “ _Desperate_ would have been wearing the cat ears I took from Presa.”

He immediately found himself being dragged close, lurid cerise eyes focused intently on his.

_“Arst.”_ There was an edge of warning in his voice—more directed at the grip on his sash than the sudden closeness.

“Would you wear them? The cat ears?”

It didn’t take much to huff audibly when they were practically chest to chest. “What did I just say?”

“I would not think it desperate.” A very brief silence. “It would be cute.”

“Even more reason not to.”

The ensuing silence was thick with disappointment. Wingul felt Gaius’ hands leave his sash to instead smooth out the wrinkled material at his shoulders. But their eyes remained locked in intense combat—warring over cat ears.

They remained exactly as they were until Wingul finally relented, golden eyes drifting to the window as he sighed. “Fine. Just this once.”

He muttered as Gaius pressed an appreciative kiss against his brow, but did not resist as he was dragged off in search of the hair accessory.


	19. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaius catches sight of the newest member of his tactical counsel taking a bath.

It wasn't uncommon at all for soldiers to catch each other nude. Soldiers camped, ate, and trained in close quarters, and undressing and bathing were no different. Chances at decent baths were few and far in between while on the war campaign, so group baths were loud and often boisterous when they occurred.

Gaius, along with his officers, were afforded a little more luxury--first choice of bathing time, or a little more privacy if the setting allowed it. Gaius held no interest in greatly separating the officers from the rest of the army, so his officers could of course mingle with the soldiers if they wished. While most of the officers chose to bathe during the early evening, Gaius saw a benefit in taking his baths in the early morning, after practicing his forms.

Integrating the Long Dau soldiers into Taurus was no easy task; although the tribe's numbers had been worn down through frequent skirmishes, there were a great many of them. Though Gaius was a great uniting force, individual relationships had to wear down the existing discomfort between former enemies. At rest, the Long Dau could be seen apart from the rest of the troops, many still wary despite accepting surrender.

Young Lin Long Dau, the newest member to his tactical counsel, bathed in relative solitude. Leader of the newly-integrated surrendering tribe and younger than the entirety of Gaius' staff, he was held at arm's length by most everyone. He often chose to bathe late into the night, with only his long-time retainer watching over him.

It was a rare sight to see Lin bathing at dawn, waist deep in the stream and staring off in the direction of the approaching sunlight. His retainer sat on a rock a short distance from the water, lightly dozing with his charge's belongings hugged to his chest. Gaius paused with a training sword in hand, having walked out with the intention of practicing and then bathing.

He silently stood there, staring at the other boy across the distance. Stripped of his dark clothing and cold expression blocked from view, someone of Lin's stature would have looked very out of place in the camp. His musculature was underdeveloped for a swordsman, even in comparison to others who might have been training at his age. He was very fair, as if he had never been exposed to the unforgiving extremes of the spirit climes.

But most notably, Lin had no discernible scars. The light on the horizon created shadows on his skin, but eventual movement proved that the darkness hid nothing.

Gaius did not look away when he noticed Lin had averted his eyes towards him. If the young chief was surprised, it did not show in his steady gaze and tight-lipped frown. He offered a small nod, which Gaius returned before continuing on his way.

Though his expression changed little as he walked, his frown grew pensive.

He wondered how many scars Lin would have by the end of the war.


	20. Planning Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooperating is so much more productive than arguing. Pre-ToX2 AU.

"Whose bright idea was it, Ilbert?"  
  
Rowen made a questioning noise as he turned in his chair, watching Wingul enter his office. Too composed to _storm_ across the distance, the younger man allowed the intense frown on his face to speak the volumes of his displeasure. "I have no idea what you are referring to." It did not take a genius to guess the reason for Wingul's ire, but Rowen kept his peace. He removed his spectacles to clean them, still becoming used to needing them for daily activity.  
  
"Don't give me that." It was only a great deal of discipline that kept Wingul from clenching his hands or shifting foot to foot where he stood. "Who suggested this idea of going to Elympios in disguise?"  
  
Adjusting his spectacles so they sat properly on his nose, Rowen calmly replied. "Really now, Wingul. Does that sound like something I would suggest to His Highness?" He picked up his quill to continue working on the forms stacked on his desk, his script neat and crisp after a moment's break.  
  
Wingul worked his jaw with a low level of frustration. No, it didn't sound like something Rowen would suggest. Really, he knew _exactly_ who was to blame for the entire idea, but grousing in the prime minister's general vicinity had to keep things from gaining traction. "It would be a security nightmare."  
  
"And potentially slow down the integration of our governmental facilities, yes. I am aware." Now that he was back to writing, Rowen did not look up from his paperwork. "But you know Gaius. Better than any of us, you know how stubborn he can be when he wants to do something."  
  
Wingul continued to stand there, his attention slowly shifting from the top of Rowen's head to the set aside forms. Two steps forward brought him to the edge of the desk, and he scooped the top few papers off the stack. "These are passport forms." There was a pause as he averted a stern look back at Rowen's head. "For crossing through Marksburg. For both yourself and Gaius."  
  
"Indeed." Rowen lifted his idle hand to tap the next few papers on the stack. "If he wishes to pursue this idea, it would be best to prepare every aspect before he takes off alone. I happen to recall tales of His Highness taking unscheduled trips without an escort."  
  
The implication was too clear to ignore; instead of looking to the tapped papers, Wingul kept his stare leveled on the prime minister. "You are somehow going to make this _less_ of a security issue by having _two_ heads of state traipsing around Elympios?"  
  
Rowen once again tapped the papers, finally pausing in his writing to meet the younger man's eyes. Recognizing the inscrutable expression, Wingul relented and plucked the next sheet from the stack. Rowen spoke while taking in the unimpressed look on his face, unable to mask the amused lilt in his voice. "I have three tailors from Trigleph scheduled to arrive tomorrow. They will have many samples of their wares that I'm sure you can choose from."  
  
"I am not going to make matters worse by being part of this farce, Ilbert."  
  
"Half a farce, really. I have made official plans to meet with Chancellor Marcia for a tour of Trigleph. His Highness' trip will be unannounced, and I will advise him to leave Kanbalar three days prior."  
  
The shift in demeanor was subtle but important; Rowen could tell from the way Wingul leaned back slightly that he had caught on to the full plan. "So you intend to draw attention away from His Highness' activity by being visible elsewhere in the country.”  
  
“Precisely.” Rowen allowed a smile at last, especially as the younger tactician reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I find merit in Gaius’ idea, so this is the best way I can think of executing a safe plan. I hardly have to worry if the leader of the Chimeriad is guarding the king.”  
  
The unimpressed look was back in full force at the glib comment. “It won’t be an effective ploy if the prime minister of Rieze Maxia goes unguarded.”  
  
“That is true.” Rowen reached up to stroke his beard while passing another form to Wingul. “I have drawn up forms for both Presa and Agria so they can accompany me. I would appreciate it if you told them.”  
  
Wingul’s eyes only briefly scanned the form for Presa’s name before he spoke again. “So Jiao will be holding down the fort over here.”  
  
“Yes. He would be in the best position, as he is still going between Kanbalar and Xian Du on a regular basis for tribal affairs. It will be imperative that he learns how to use a GHS before I leave.”  
  
“I will work with him.” It was an implicit acceptance of the entire plan. “It’s not a matter of learning how to use a GHS; Elize has shown him hers and he was able to describe some of its functionality to me. His hands are simply too big for all the models I have seen.”  
  
Rowen’s lips pinched into a slight frown at that. “I doubt I will be able to find something more suitable for him before we leave.” Especially considering a new GHS would likely have to be shipped over from Trigleph.  
  
The concern was dismissed with a slight shake of the head. “It’s not ideal, but I believe he can work around it if I locate a stylus for him. A stylus will be far easier to find or fashion in the given timeframe.” Wingul crossed his arms in thought. “I can spend some time looking for a replacement while in Elympios.”  
  
A breathy chuckle escaped Rowen as Wingul began forming plans of his own. “You will have to handle most of the correspondence for Gaius, of course.”  
  
“Of course.” Wingul briefly looked towards the ceiling as he was reminded of Gaius’ abysmal grasp of Elympios’ casual technology. “I take it that the tailors will have selections for women as well?”  
  
“They will. I hope their wares are to Presa’s tastes.”  
  
Wingul snorted. “Presa will be excited for the opportunity; I doubt I will have to mention anything other than traveling to Elympios to win her over. Agria is the one I hope will be pacified by new clothes.” When Rowen raised a brow, Wingul continued. “She isn’t happy with the waves of Elympion tourists. You might have your hands full with her.”  
  
“I see.” He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Agria in-depth, so the details were appreciated. “I would not have thought she would be interested in Elympion fashion, based on what you just said.”  
  
There was a slight tilt of the head from Wingul—as close to a shrug as he ever gave in these situations. “She has been talking to Leia. The only things I ever heard her actually compliment were her clothes.” And that was high praise from Agria at her surliest.  
  
Rowen nodded contemplatively, watching as Wingul returned the papers on his desk. He shuffled through the remaining papers in front of him to pluck out empty forms. “These will be for your ‘unofficial’ identities. I trust you will be able to fill out these with Gaius?”  
  
Wingul took the papers, briefly looking over the various boxes before turning to leave. “Most of this can be reported truthfully. It won’t be a problem.”  
  
“Please ensure Gaius doesn’t make his false name anything too outlandish.”  
  
The final comment was dismissed without Wingul turning to look back. “I have no intention of allowing him anywhere near these things with a writing instrument.” There was a moment of silence as Wingul reached to open the door. “I will have these back before dinnertime.”  
  
With a smile of acknowledgment, Rowen saw Wingul off. He sighed peaceably, sinking back into his chair instead of immediately taking up his quill again.  
  
It was always nice to cooperate with his coworkers.


	21. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While accompanying Ludger into a fractured dimension, Wingul and Gaius come across a grim sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While unintentional, this could be assumed to take place in the same verse as "Planning Ahead."

“It would be a mercy to kill him now.”

Wingul’s voice was flat as he regarded the fallen boy. Though his breathing was labored and rattled through his lungs, the young prince’s wounds were not fatal. The reason for that was the larger body on top of him, nearly bisected by a powerful blade.

Gaius glanced at his unmoving companion, taking in his expression that was more blank than cold. Stepping into fractured dimensions meant there were any variety of alternate happenings awaiting them, with only a divergence catalyst to stop the otherwise disconcerting unraveling of history.

Golden hair peeked out from under a leather coif. Gaius had no doubt that Wingul noticed it against the blood-dotted snowscape.

“Ludger would have caught up with Lars by now. The end will come regardless.” His dark boots crunched in the snow as he turned away. “We should join him.”

A swath of other bodies--casualties--were strewn across the snow. The colors and sigils were the same as what he remembered of their world, but the battle itself had never taken place in the true history--in the prime dimension.

The hiss of a blade leaving its sheath caused him to pause. He did not have to look back to know that Wingul’s blank face had given way for disgust.

“Lin.”

Silence. Stillness. Gaius waited for something to end it, whether it be the seething sharpness of the sword returning to its sheath or the whistle of the blade flying true.

But all he heard was the crackle of shattered glass.


	22. Sendoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wingul has been chosen to represent Rieze Maxia in a very strange event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the mobile game Tales of Asteria, there was a special collaboration event awhile back that resulted in various Tales characters dressing as idols. Wingul was one of those idols.
> 
> ...Yes, this whole story is based off an outfit. It doesn't really make sense and is completely non-canon compliant as is.

Presa had her fingertips pressed to her lips, as if trying to smother a smile. Jiao and Agria had no such compunctions, smiling in their own completely different ways as they watched. 

Gaius looked as serious as ever as he straightened the tassels of Wingul’s outfit.

“This is ridiculous.” Wingul’s deadpan was matched by the frown on his face, as if he was attempting to will away the entire situation.

“Ridiculous or not, you were chosen as a representative of our world. You must make a good impression.” Milla stood beside Gaius, looking over Wingul with a critical eye.

“Maxwell and I are in agreement on that matter.” If Wingul had hoped to complain further to his king, that thought was decisively quashed by those words. “Quite frankly, they could not have chosen a better person in terms of information gathering. I know you will carry out thorough reconnaissance even under such circumstances.”

Despite the considerable audience, Wingul had no problem turning a sharp look to Gaius; the attempts at compliments were not helping his mood at all. Sensing the growing hostility, Rowen interjected with a slight change in topic. “And what incredible circumstances they are! If I was a few years younger, I would not at all mind going in your stead.”

“I think the _prospective audiences_ would mind.” Alvin coughed from where he lounged on the throne room steps, uninterested in crowding around Wingul with some of the others. Elize and Leia sat nearby, at least politely attentive in comparison to the mercenary-turned-merchant. “If these ‘judges’ are hoping to attract crowds with this ‘interdimensional idol entertainment’ craziness, of course they’re going to avoid the elderly.”

“That’s so rude, Alvin.” Elize sighed, holding Teepo on her lap in a distinctly uncomfortable manner. Even if they were no longer at odds with Gaius and his subordinates, it was still very … strange, to be sitting around in this fashion.

“Idols have to be admired on a variety of different criteria, from what they describe in their … brochure.” Jude shook his head as he looked between the brochure and translation sheet he’d been given, moving the sheet slightly when Milla looked over his shoulder. “Personality, image, and music. They largely become successful if they are charming and empathetic.” 

“Yeah, that fits the commander so well it’s _shocking,_ ” Agria cackled, slapping her thigh and only laughing louder when Wingul pointedly ignored her. “I’d pay money to see this whole production. In a _heartbeat._ ”

“So would I.” Presa finally decided to stop hiding her smile, dropping her hand to her hip as she sidled over to fix the feathery adornment on Wingul’s jacket. “I’d even pay back the time I’d need for vacation.”

That was apparently the last straw, as Wingul huffed audibly and backed away from both Gaius and Presa. “This fussing is entirely unnecessary. You’re acting like I’m going to step onto a stage the moment I leave here.”

“You can’t discount that it might happen.” Milla continued with her pragmatic tone as she crossed her arms. “You are going to a new _world_ , after all. Their culture and expectations could be entirely different.”

While Wingul worked his jaw and tried to muster up a comeback, Leia cleared her throat. “Jude mentioned something that I’ve been wondering about. The-- uh, the music portion. Does that mean he has to sing? _Can he_ sing?” 

“Of course he can.” When the majority of those present stared at Gaius, he decided to explain while ignoring the unreadable look on his tactician’s face. “That isn’t a joke about his title, either. He is perfectly capable of singing.” There was a significant pause. “And composing music.”

The younger members of the group gaped openly at the new information, while Alvin and Rowen shot each other bemused looks. Milla took it all in stride, nodding in approval. “All the more reason that Wingul will be a successful representative.”

A portal appeared at the entrance of the throne room a few minutes later, much like when those strange idol judges had initially appeared. Wingul gave it a cross look as he hurriedly conferred more of his duties to Jiao, pointing emphatically at different tasks on the long list he’d written for him as a reference.

“You will only be gone a few days, Wingul,” Jiao chuckled, giving his commander a pat that was probably supposed to be comforting. It only served to exasperate Wingul, and he continued drilling through the list until he was _somewhat_ confident with Jiao’s recital of the key points.

Farewells were an uncomfortable affair. Jude and Leia stiffly waved, while Elize opted not to do anything at all in a bout of shyness. Alvin lazily saluted without walking over, offering a brief “See you in a few days” before making the effort to distract Elize. Milla once again stressed the importance of making a good impression, stepping aside so Presa could give Wingul a brief hug. “Hurry back. I’ll be waiting for all the details.” 

Agria was next, lugging over Wingul’s bag. She practically threw it at him, proclaiming “Knock ‘em dead!” with no small amount of laughter. Rowen followed, assuring him that he would work with Gaius and Jiao to ensure the merging of Rashugal and Auj Oule’s governments would continue unabated while he was gone. Reluctant to offer gratitude, Wingul only nodded in response.

Gaius was the last, reaching up to adjust the short tie at Wingul’s neck despite the displeased frown it earned him. “I know this will be very trying. I appreciate your dedication.” There was only one reason why he would agree to something this outlandish, after all. Their eyes met as Gaius dropped his hands. “Don’t forget to smile.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, Wingul could only roll his eyes as he left.


End file.
